


Identity Theft

by Tarlan



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: Angst, Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The virus was supposed to have wiped out all of the vampires, but Hannibal had heard rumors to the contrary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity Theft

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SmallFandomFest FEST10 2012

The virus had spread far beyond the city, encircling the globe, and there were reports from all over the world of a virulent virus that seemed to eat away a body in seconds. Images hit the media and filled social network sites, with moments of infection and death caught by shaky cellphone cameras, webcams and security cameras. The world's governments were in turmoil, talking to scientists to try to explain this strange phenomena, afraid for their own lives because only a few had known that vampires were not a myth. They feared a virus that would wipe out the whole of humanity, especially as nothing but ash remained of those who succumbed to the virus.

Hannibal laughed at first, finding it amusing until martial law was declared. Then the reality hit him. It was the end of all the vampires, and for the first time, Hannibal had wondered what he was going to do now that he had no vampires left to kill. Admittedly, most of his hatred of vampires had dissipated when he saw Danica turn to ash. Until that moment he had not realized how much her very existence fueled the anger and resentment buried inside him from years of abuse at her hands. Now that it was gone--now that _she_ was gone--he felt free and yet lost at the same time.

Despite Blade's role in bringing about the end, Hannibal wondered if killing Blade was now his destiny because the Daywalker was barely hanging onto his control even when the serum was easily available. Sommerfield had confided in him that the serum was losing its potency and, eventually, it would not be enough to stop the blood lust. The time would come when Blade would become the very thing they both despised, unintentionally spawning more vampires, and the cycle of death and unlife would begin again.

After a few months, once the initial panic had dissipated and the virus had become old news, Hannibal knew it was time to make a decision over Blade. He called together the remnants of vampire hunters to discuss rumors that new vampires were being created in New York, and as Blade was the only vampire who could have survived the Daystar virus, Hannibal feared that Sommerfield's prophesy had come to pass, especially as Blade had disappeared since the fight.

Hannibal returned to all the old haunts but found some nightclubs almost empty while others had a new lease of life now that they were no longer under the control of vampires. He moved through the crowds but the familiar tingle of his sixth sense--a gift from his time spent as a vampire--was absent. There was nothing.

It took several more weeks before he heard of a new nightclub that had opened up on the east side called _Ishtar_. Either someone was into old box office flops, or it was named after the Babylonian Goddess of Love. Hannibal decided to check it out regardless but just one glance at the well-dressed guests in smart suits and low-cut evening gowns made him wince as he looked down at his tight fitting leather pants and vest. There was no way he could simply blend in as he did within the other nightclubs. He shrugged, deciding that his attire was no excuse for not trying to bluff his way in anyway. Maybe they'd simply think he was eccentric. He stalked towards the burly but well-dressed man at the entrance, cutting the line of wannabe guests and smiling brightly, using the well-cultivated mischievous look that had brought him to Danica's attention all those years ago.

He didn't expect it to work judging by the way the man straightened up, cracked his knuckles and pursed his lips, only to frown and touch his ear as if receiving new orders.

"Let him in," the doorman stated, and the other doorman hesitated before unclipping the thick red cord looped across the entrance; they both stood back as Hannibal stepped past them.

Hannibal flipped them a carefree grin but inside his heart was beating fast with expectation of danger as the music grew louder and the lights flashed at the end of a short corridor. He paused when he reached the edge of the large room, taking in the sight and sound. The music held an Middle Eastern influence yet still thrummed in his blood and reverberated through the floor. 

Another man was pushing through the throng of dancers, heading straight for him and Hannibal licked his lips in a nervous habit that he hadn't managed to kick.

"This way please, Mr. King," shouting to be heard above the music.

Damn, he thought, even though he had already guessed that someone must have seen him on the door camera and recognized him. This merely confirmed it. He gave a slight bow of his head and followed on behind, wondering who he would find at the top of the elegant stairs that had been cordoned off. As he reached the closed door to a private party room, it opened and several giggling men and women came out, eyeing him curiously as they passed. Hannibal felt his sixth sense kick into high gear, recalling the last time he had followed a similar path only to end up enslaved to Danica Talos for five long years.

He entered the room cautiously when it became obvious that his guide would not be coming in with him. Inside the room was opulent but empty, and the music was muted but still loud enough to enjoy. Two glasses had been set out on a low table alongside a bottle of whiskey that hadn't come out of any cheap grocery store. It was as expensive as the thick Persian carpet and wall hangings.

He felt that tingle again and spun round, frozen in place when he saw the man standing only a few feet behind him.

"You're dead."

Drake smiled an spread his hands wide, not needing words to mock Hannibal with the truth of his continued existence.

"But there was ash, and Blade was... You."

It all fell into place with terrible certainty. The reason why no one had seen Blade since the battle was because he had succumbed to the virus alongside all the pure but weak vampires. The body taken to the morgue had not been Blade at all. It had been Drake wearing Blade's form, and with his heartbeat suppressed as if he had slept back into the sleep of centuries. With that sick feeling deep in his gut, Hannibal took a step away from Drake, for once lost even for a witty comeback. He tensed, waiting for Drake to attack but the original vampire turned away, moving to the low table and picking up the bottle.

"Drink?"

"I would have thought something rich and red was more to your taste, a Merlot perhaps. Personally, I prefer an imported beer these days."

Drake smiled but otherwise ignored him as he poured two drinks. He held out one glass to Hannibal and it seemed churlish not to accept. Taking a sip, Hannibal had to admit that it was an excellent blend even though he was no connoisseur of whiskey. Hannibal licked his lips again, this time tasting the whiskey on them. He stopped when he realized Drake was staring at his mouth with a hunger that Hannibal had always associated with blood lust.

"So, I guess your the one breeding new little baby vampires to follow in daddy's footsteps?" It wasn't really a question, more rhetorical, so he didn't expect an answer.

"Yes. But you'll find these ones have been chosen for their strength and integrity. Not like the weak ones that I let your people destroy for me."

"Glad we could be of service."

Drake smiled again. "I like you. That's why I've let you live."

"And on that note, I'll just go and live my life elsewhere." He put the glass down and took a couple of steps to the door, only to find his way blocked by Drake.

"I'd prefer that you lived the rest of a very long life with me."

Hannibal edged backwards. "If that's a proposition then I have to tell you that I'm not into older men. Especially the ones born before Christ."

"Oh, I think you'd reconsider once you got to know me."

"Tempting but... I'll pass."

He never even saw Drake move. One moment he was standing several feet away, and in the next, Hannibal was bent over with Drake's teeth sinking deep into his neck, draining the life out of him. Weak with blood loss, he could barely raise a hand. It was his worst fear realized, and this time there would be no going back if he was turned again. The cure only worked one time.

"Please... Don't."

He didn't expect Drake to hear let alone heed his pleading whisper but Drake stopped and pulled back, carrying him effortlessly to the couch and laying him down upon it before sitting down next to him. Hannibal's eyes felt heavy, and the darkness of death was slowly eroding his vision but he could see Drake frowning before his lips curled into a soft smile.

"I am not like the one who took you as her slave. You will be as free as any man or vampire can be in this world. Free to stay or go." He smiled wryly. "Though I would prefer you to stay with me. Forever if you so wish."

"Why?"

"Because I have lived for several thousand years, and this is the first time I have found one such as you." Drake took in an unnecessary, deep breath and released it. "I give you the gift of choice from this day forward. Stay or go. I will never stop you. The first choice you must make now is eternal death or eternal life. Choose."

"My choice?"

"Always."

"If I choose life... but not you?"

"So be it. But be warned I will spend an eternity trying to win you back." He leaned in and kissed Hannibal, his breath warm and lips tasting on the expensive whiskey. "Choose quickly."

Hannibal felt death closing around him and knew all he had to do was give the word and it could all end here and now, but the taste on his lips was more than just whiskey. He could taste the sweetness of Drake beneath it and with it the promise that he knew Drake would keep.

"Life," he whispered as he accepted this new beginning, and with his lips pressed against an opened vein in Drake's throat, he drank greedily of the blood freely offered.

END


End file.
